calling for your head and calling for your name
by Mia-Zeklos
Summary: "'Ghost'. Jon had mentioned the name before. 'So this is what a direwolf looks like'."


**Notes: Written for day three of the Jonerys Appreciation Week - S _oulmates / Dragon Queen and White Wolf / Parallels_. Again, this is a pretty literal interpretation, but I really _really_ wanted to write about Dany meeting Ghost and just couldn't resist the opportunity to parallel some things and hint at others.**

 **/Because, yes, the ending indeed hints at the fall of the Wall and what's approaching because dragons travel faster than ravens and also know better/**  
 **Title taken from _My Blood_ by Twenty One Pilots** **, which is a rather unfortunate coincidence, all things considered**.

* * *

"Ghost!" Jon's overjoyed exclamation forced the painfully anxious silence behind Winterfell's gates to dissipate and— yes, he was definitely overjoyed, Daenerys thought, even as the blurry mass of white fur that had escaped the castle jumped at him. "Come here, boy."

 _Ghost_. Jon had mentioned the name before. _So this is what a direwolf looks like_. The creature – she would have mistaken it for a dog if it hadn't been so _big_ – licked Jon's face once he knelt on the ground in order to keep his balance and made a quiet, whimper-like sound when he ruffled its fut.

Then it turned to her. Whatever distraction the display before them had created suddenly evaporated, replaced by tension as the direwolf approached, looking as cautious as she felt.

"Jon." The dark-haired girl – Sansa? Arya? They hadn't been properly introduced yet and although Jon had told her a lot about his sisters, there had only been time for their reunion before Ghost had caught up with them – called out. There was more warning than concern in her tone and it wasn't difficult to imagine why. No one would found the idea of telling her armies that she'd been mauled as soon as she had entered the castle too appealing.

"He won't do anything." But he wasn't coming any closer either, clearly afraid to move as much as a muscle. She could understand – she had been there before, unable to rely on her instincts on beings she felt closer to than she had to any human. "He won't," he insisted, looking up at her this time. "Trust me."

"I do." She still hadn't moved. She had no intention to, really; _this_ had been one of the things she had been least prepared for when thinking of their arrival. She didn't dare to blink.

"I wouldn't look him in the eyes if I were you." The dark-haired Stark's Northern drawl broke the silence again and Dany could see her smiling from the corner of her eye. Definitely Arya, then. Jon hadn't seen her since she had been a little girl, but he had still told enough stories about her that she was able to tell. The odd combination of indifference and interest was all she needed to go by. "He'll take it as a challenge."

"I don't mind." She didn't look away but reached out instead, careful to keep her hand steady. It wouldn't do to look as unsure as she felt – everyone whose alliance would matter in the very near future was watching, after all. Her achievements and titles and dragons, even, would matter very little if she cowered in front of their leader's companion; one of the North's first, strongest occupants. The direwolf was still on edge, but it hadn't attacked. Daenerys had the sinking feeling that this was the best she could hope for.

She recalled Jon's first close encounter with Drogon, suddenly, the memory clear despite her attempts to not let herself get distracted. She had been more than a little irritated by his assessment of her dragons, but she could understand a little better with every moment in which the wolf's gaze didn't waver. _Gorgeous beasts_. There had been admiration and an undercurrent of awe in the statement; the kind that came with the fear and curiosity in the face of the unknown.

She had expected him to feel rough to the touch when she finally made contact and the softness of Ghost's fur made her freeze again at first. He was warm and ancient and impossible and he hadn't flinched when she had stepped closer, tried to initiate something most people would have never even tried. It felt more like judgment than trust and it mattered more than she would have liked to admit.

This time around, it made sense.

 **o.O.o**

He hadn't even thought of Ghost hurting her, somehow.

The realisation was rather abrupt and not at all welcome. Somewhere along the way, between the first time he had realised that if there was a person he would trust the North with, it was Daenerys Targaryen and the moment they had climbed off the ship in White Harbour, Jon had convinced himself that there was no way she wouldn't fit right in with the picture he remembered from his last moments in Winterfell before he'd sailed south. The picture that had welcomed him – _them_ – had turned out to be drastically different than what he had expected, of course, but that hadn't swayed the results too much. There had been shock and anger and fear (two grown dragons were two dragons more than anyone here had been prepared to face) and accusations that he would inevitably have to face once the morning came, but for now—

For now, he could retreat to his chambers and get as good a rest as he was able to. It felt too quiet, now, trying to fall asleep with nothing but the sound of the wind outside and the perfect stillness that the sea hadn't offered, but he wasn't alone in his efforts.

"I'm still not convinced that this isn't a sign of hostility."

Despite his best efforts to keep his expression as earnest as possible, Jon felt a smile curl his lips. Daenerys was busy undoing her braids, but her eyes had followed Ghost's every move around the room even before he had come up on the bed to settle at Jon's feet.

"If he was hostile, you would know," he assured her, far more comfortable than he should have felt under these circumstances. He was almost certain that no one had seen them both come in, but it hadn't felt right to leave her on her own even with someone guarding the door – he had never particularly enjoyed being entirely alone in new, foreign lands and wasn't too willing to let her go through the same thing. And it wasn't just that. The North was his _home_ ; if there was anyone who could make her feel close to the land that he had promised her, it was him. It had yet to be seen how the northerners would take to their new Queen, but he was sufficiently distracted from that line of thought the moment she slid under the furs he had covered his bed in. She was shivering already, even curled up on herself as she was, and Jon snuck an arm over her shoulders to bring her closer. "Direwolves are protective of their masters when they have ones."

"So he considers me a threat."

"You're difficult to please, Your Grace," Jon teased, the lightness in his voice betraying the relief he felt. It wasn't going to be easy at all, but perhaps it wouldn't be all that difficult either.

"Difficult?" The exaggerated outrage in her voice only made him smile wider and pull her closer to watch the tension slowly drain out of her features once she closed her eyes. "Not at all, Jon Snow."

He didn't deign her with a response, reluctant to disrupt the lull that had descended over them in the silence in the room. Even Ghost seemed to have calmed down somewhat after the excitement of the day and Jon let his mind wander as he stared at the snow falling soundlessly outside, willing himself to fall asleep. He could see Drogon and Rhaegal make the same maddening circles around the castle walls that they'd kept up ever since their arrival, as if searching for something they couldn't quite find just yet. It made the constant worry in the back of his mind raise its head a little higher, but Jon pushed back, determined to not let it take over everything else. Not just yet.


End file.
